Getting Through Another IEP

The IEP went quite well, actually. I was armed with data on Apraxia and likely comorbidity issues in education (phonological issues, dyslexia, dysgraphia...to name a few) , as well as the names and details of some tests which could be useful to determine his need and eligibility for services within the public school district.

His new and fabulous teacher, the principal, the new SLP, and I were all present.
We started with talking about Bubbles strengths. This is a typical component of IEP's in general, both in part to remind everyone of the child's strengths, and also to delay the inevitable delivery of something a parent may resist. The 'offer' of the school district for services is always the last thing to happen, right before the negotiations begin, that is.

Anyway, we all managed to have a peaceful and cohesive meeting. I didn't know how the principal would address this, and an IEP meeting can tell a parent a lot about a principal....so there was tension on my part leading up to this meeting. So much was at stake, having switched schools for the children this year and the unknown factor was high until I had some administrative proof.

I did remind the SLP at one point that Apraxia was not a developmental delay, because without treatment, it would not 'correct itself', nor would he simply one day 'catch up'. I was happy to hear the principal concur.

His K teacher talked about how he is so very young and we compared his abilities to his peers. We all agreed (principal included) that he should not really be in K this year, and anything he did this year (his first year of 2 years of K) was gravy, so there is no stressful performance emphasis on meeting K standards by the end of the year. The Independent Study program he is in (3 days classroom, 2 days home school) facilitates this better than we could ever have hoped. He is in a class with an 8:1 ratio. Better than private school. Another reason I really wanted this IEP to go well.

I asked about occupational therapy to work with his fine motor deficits. The boy can put together legos, but can't control a pencil well enough to write letters. The principal agreed to have him observed by the OT in the next few weeks. Wow. That was easy.

SLP suggested a 50% reduction in services, which I had been prepared to hear. I explained that, because he had such a rich history of speech therapy services, and because I was equipped to support his services with supplemental home program, I would agree to that reduction.

But then it got a little tense when the SLP pointed out that she had checked the 'individual' box as well as the 'group' box. Which is when I said that I was not at all prepared to agree to this aspect of the IEP, because we were already compromising the amount of time he had been receiving, and it would be too much of a change in meeting his needs. I felt strongly that being in a group would compromise the level of attention he needs and would be getting.

SLP suggested that Bubbles had received individual therapy in the years prior to K because the school didn't have anyone who could provide that therapy for him before age five. I suggested it was in fact, because the principal of that school district had acknowledged the severity of his diagnosis (moderate to severe apraxia) and had allotted him the recommended number of hours (3 per week) for a child that age with that disability. Which was, in fact, exactly why he is doing so well now.

The SLP even pointed out that he would need to show a delay to qualify for any change in services. Which is when I got a little pitbull. But I took a deep breath, dipped inside for some more reserve honey, and said, "But that's not what anyone at this school wants for Bubbles, is it?"

At this point the principal stepped in and said, "It sounds like Gwendomama is clear that Bubbles is not ready to transition into speech therapy in a group setting. I think that sounds fine. If you can ever fit him into an existing group then perhaps we can supplement his 1/2 hour per week with trying that out and we would then see if he can work well in a group. But right now he still needs the 1/2 hour of individual therapy."
I sighed heavily with relief and the SLP sputtered something about her full schedule, which pissed me off because hello? Bubbles' needs should not be compromised by her limited availability.

And that's the truth for any school district, remember that for me, will you?

I think I did pretty well, and I know Bubbles is going to do pretty well too!

Apraxia in Action; Continued....

Tomorrow is Bubbles' first IEP at his new school. In fact, it will be his first IEP in elementary school. It's late October, and I still try and wrap my brain around the twisted fact that he ended up in kindergarten this year.

I've already been warned that he will lose services. The school, bless their budget-deficient little soul, set me up nicely by suggesting at first that he will no longer qualify for any speech services, as a result of having made so much progress in the past three years. Now, I love this school, and I get it that they have no money, but there is no way I am going to accept that he is cured of Apraxia merely because they don't have funding for speech therapy.
I had a blunt talk with the SLP and let her know that I do not like surprises, and would hope to not expect any at the upcoming IEP.
To her credit, she called me last week making her recommendations. I cringed at the number of times she ignored my 'motor planning' questions and cringed again each time she peppered her recommendations with the phrase 'articulation disorder'.
BECAUSE APRAXIA IS NOT AN ARTICULATION DISORDER!!!

(Sorry for shouting. But it's not.) (Inability to articulate is a SYMPTOM.)


Anyway....I don't expect to be surprised when they tell me they are cutting his services in half, down to 1/2 hour session per week.
Saying he is 'almost all better' would feel great.....if it were actually true.
But the truth is, California is broke, and the educational system is broken. I hope some administration employees in Sacramento are having a lovely lunch out today. I bet the tab could be close to $90! Which is EXACTLY what an hour of private speech therapy costs. The VERY SAME speech therapy which my child is about to lose.
Hmmmm.


With that said, I am able to push aside the doom and gloom and for a little while the oh-so-many-concerns I have about his future learning challenges.
Why? Because I am grateful to have this child beyond belief. I am grateful to be able to watch the layers of his intelligence be revealed as his expressive language capacity increases. It is the most amazing process. It's not developmental, technically, because he is being treated for something which would not correct itself with a delay. But it is developmental as I watch him achieve communication milestones and make the connections.
His brain appears to be working overtime as his capacity for intelligible speech increases.

This weekend he came running up to me.
"Mommy!!! Mommy!!!! LISTEN TO THIS!!!! 'Plane' you go somewhere! 'Playing' you have fun! 'Plain', with nothing on it. OH MY GOD!!!"

OMG indeed, little man. You managed to blow my mind yet again.

Apraxia Update

Well, Bubbles no longer has Apraxia tests so high that he currently tests above the level which meets the criteria for the diagnosis of Apraxia.

:::::blink blink blink::::


He does, most likely still have Apraxia, and also perhaps a phonological disorder, which only appears as a distinguishable diagnosis around age four. We are fortunate to have such a well appointed speech therapist working with Bubbles; but The Guru is almost too good. She has made so much progress with him that he has blossomed like a bloomin onion. Because he is revealed to us with each new layer, and also because he is as delicious as a deep fried bloomin onion.


But, at the IEP, I was flabbergasted when I was told that his vocabulary AND expressive language skills test in the five year old range (he is 3.6), and that he technically no longer qualified for services, and especially not an ESY. So, the boy who has had 3 hours/week of speech therapy is suddenly released? I don't think so. I asked for at least one hour/week of continued 1:1 speech services, based on the following principles:

• The school district was willing to pay for ESY if I would have taken their suggestion to send him to a special day school (which was not appropriate!).
• He was doing so very well with the speech therapist, that to take him away entirely, would be akin to removing one of 4 wheels on a car and expecting it to continue to run well.

Guess what?
Bubbles has one hour of 1:1 speech therapy in an ESY and is scheduled to be re-evaluated when he is four.

If you need support at your IEP, please let me know - I am happy to share the love.

Bubbles vs. Apraxia

Apraxia update over here today!

Please stop by.....

Wish Us The Good Luck, Mateys

Yesterday I took Bubbles to the guru, after keeping him home from preschool so that he would have the energy for his one hour of speech therapy. He had been sick all week, but was well enough on Thursday to get back into action; residual cough like his sister. He had missed his first two appointments of the week, and when we showed up yesterday, he was still pissed off at being woken up from his nap. He cried, "NoNONONONONO!" and I asked him to please quiet down as we entered the office.
We were met on the stairs by the guru. "He's too sick to be here!" she said.
I was embarrassed- did she really think I would bring a sick kid? Apparently, she did.
"He's all flushed from his nap - he's just not himself yet and doesn't want to be here."
"No. He's too sick. You need to take him home."
We had some awkward and quick mumblings about scheduling for next week and off we went. To drive the 45 minutes back home.
When I got back in the car, after Bubbles was buckled in, I felt the heat crawl up my face, the chin start to quiver....and I lost it. The floodgates opened and I just sobbed, saying things to nobody in particular like 'OHMYGAWD he totally SNOWED HER!' and 'WAHHHH WAHHHH - I miss the other therapist - the ones who GOT HIM TO TALK' and a few other choice words that we may hear popping up in someone's increasing vocabulary soon but let's hope not.

After this, I went to Costco, and he ran around like a maniac; totally fine and full of energy, and completely stoked that he got out of working.

Seriously. I am losing my peaceful and trusting nature through this process.

LOSING IT.

Bubbles was progressing every single week, if not day, for the last few months under the instruction of his ABA speech therapist. He was in a huge developmental leap - one which we were afraid would be affected by a drastic change in therapists and approaches. The school district, convinced that Bubbles would transition just fine (based on nothing), refused to pay for any ABA therapy at all, stating that his issue was solely speech and language based, being apraxia, and they would not pay for a therapist who was not a licensed SLP. So, we paid for two weeks' transition time, and allowed him one session/week during (what was supposed to be) his first two weeks with the new SLP (formerly and possibly still referred to as guru; stay tuned) but then he got sick and missed all of this week. Even yesterday, when he was well.
During this time he has continued to talk and increase his communication skills, but his language has not improved. He has not progressed at the rate we were seeing last month. He has started to tantrum again when asked to do something he resists, hit people, and just yesterday he used his newly discovered vocabulary to yell back at Daddy (who had just asked him to come get his diaper changed), "I GONNA KICK YOU!"
Holyhellsangels people!
Is this what BOYS SAY?
I say hell no you are NOT gonna even say that you are gonna kick me!

So....did I mention that I am a bit afraid right now?
Today is Bubbles' last day with Amazing Teacher S (which can stand for Super), and I am having a very hard time with this.
I knew this would be harder on me than Bubbles, because he does not understand that he won't see her again.

But I thought - I hoped - that, by this point, we would be making progress comfortably with the guru.

I had hoped that taking him to Amazing Teacher S this last time would not feel like making him walk the plank.

I am totally jumping off with him.

Signs That Your IEP Will Suck

When you start out your (FIRST)(transitional) IEP meeting and the principal greets you with, "Don't think there will be this many people here for Bubbles' IEP ever again!", it is probably not a good sign and your bad omen feeling of walking into an antagonistic situation is correct.
Run away.

Because in a moment, it may come up that you did in fact, ask for a copy of the IEP to be viewed 48 hours before the meeting, and why didn't you get it, the principal will look at everyone who was present at the IFSP meeting (in which she made this agreement), glare at them, and blatantly lie as she says to you, "I never agreed to that. I said I would try to get you a copy."

And your lip may quiver a bit, because you know she is wrong and already being intimidating and the meeting just started, so why do you have such a bad feeling about what is about to happen?
RUN AWAY.
And then you will remind her that you asked for this copy five whole weeks ago, and why wasn't five weeks enough time, and she will get very angry with you for mentioning this in front of the nine other people there and raise her voice just enough to toss a hint of derision in, "No, it was actually THREE WEEKS ago." and then when you try and correct her, you will realize that she is loudly calling you a liar and you are wondering why you have such a bad feeling about this.
RUN AWAY.
Traditionally, the IEP is the time for negotiation, but this truly is a grey area. They may negotiate, or you may be faced with a principal (like ours) who refuses to negotiate solely because there is an audience of nine other professionals, and she has a 'precedence' to maintain.
When you suggest to the someone on the IEP team that you don't like to negotiate and can't you just tell them what your son needs so you don't have to play games, and they insist that IEP meetings are for negotiating, you may believe them.

So you may be surprised at the meeting, when the principal says to you, "What we are prepared to offer you is this." And what she really means is, this is it. There will be no negotiating.
And then proceeds to refuse to listen to anything you have to say because she will not negotiate, and what they are prepared to offer you is ONLY this and nothing more, so don't ask.

If you, in your misguided attempts to negotiate, suggest that you know something about the funding allocations of your school district and you notice your principal begin to turn red and sputtery and her mouth opens and she begins spewing out unconnected phrases about funding and precedence, remind yourself that she is not supposed to be talking about why they can not afford to pay for your child, and you should RUN AWAY.

When you become tearfully intimidated and realize that everyone is staring at you because you just said you did not wish to sign the IEP, your friend who came along to offer her support and her stellar negotiating skills may notice that you are upset and scribble a note to you. You may scribble a note back to her, because you are, after all, both caught unaware and at the disadvantage since you did not receive a copy of the IEP before the meeting and it is not going very well at all. When you scribble your reply to her, if your principal interrupts the person talking at that moment to address you by saying, "Excuse me ladies, would you like us all to take a break so that you two can continue to have your little communication over there that is apparently so important that it cannot wait?"
...And you are speechless as you look up in horror at what she just did...this would be a great opportunity to RUN AWAY.

When the facilitator of the meeting, the school psychologist, begins spewing and spitting and turning red as he challenges the credentials of the behavioral psychologist who has been working (successfully!) with your son for a year, this is a good sign that it is time to RUN AWAY.

When you state again that it is not an acceptable package and you do not wish to sign it, and your principal threatens that your child will suffer if you do not sign it, this is the moment at which you must get up and leave the meeting.
RUN AWAY.

When you walk out of the meeting, trembling and angry and smacked down and overhear the school psychologist saying something to another professional which proves that he lied to you about the 'special school' he sent you to a few weeks ago (yes, it really is a school for children with autism, and he knew that when he answered 'no' to that specific question when you asked it), it is time to cut your losses.
RUN AWAY.
Go home, and write down all the facts. Fire the school psychologist.

Fire whomever you need from your team.
You have to work with the principal, but she will be dealt with too.
Especially since you know now that two separate people have filed a formal complaint about her performance, intimidation tactics, and all around glaring lack of professionalism at your meeting.


Go back the next day and SUCK IT UP for your kid.

Bubbles will receive three hours per week of 1:1 speech therapy with the guru.
We will pay for the transition time from ABA therapy to traditional SLP, since the school district categorically refuses to pay one penny of it. NOT based on my son's need, but to quote the principal, "If we did it for you, then every one would expect it!"

Such trendsetters are we.

IEP Thunder

It is thundering outside right now, and that is how I feel.
THUNDERY.
The IEP was not ideal. HAHAHAHAHA.
I know that's news to all of you IEP veterans.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
I can't stop laughing or crying inappropriately. Oh wait - maybe the crying is appropriate.
The results weren't......terrible....but basically, our principal and superintendent (same person) lied. She lied about letting me see the IEP 48 hours in advance so that I would have 'no surprises', she lied about the dates of the IFSP meetings and phone calls to the rest of the team members there, she lied about funding to me and got very upset when I revealed what I actually know about the funding (I was not supposed to know) and suggested that there was a difference between 'can't' and 'won't', she lied to me five weeks ago (at the IFSP) and said she would try and allow for a transition period for Bubbles from one therapy to another approach, and then when I tearfully said I could not sign the IEP, she grinned like a cheshire cat as she mockingly said, "Well, if you won't sign, then Bubbles won't get services, and that doesn't seem like his best interest."
The school psychologist was another piece of work; asking me weeks ago what I wanted to happen and then recommending just the opposite, challenging the credentials of the organization that has worked (successfully!) with my child for a year, and basically being a dick.

So the results are not horrible, like I said. But they are not optimal, and the whole 'we want what's best for your child' is, predictably, a political word game they play.

I did not sign.
I need to sleep on it.

The lying boss suggested, like a vice grip on my nipples, that I must sign it or 'too bad for Bubbles'.
Lying again, she may have forgotten that I still have one more day before his birthday.
I walked out without signing.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA


((waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh))

My Boy Talk Pretty Some Day

On Friday, just one week after I was tearfully explaining that my child did not belong in a special ed classroom, I took my son to the school district recommended SLP (speech & language pathologist, or 'person', because my vocabulary does not prefer the word 'pathologist') for a school district recommended assessment. Yes, another assessment. Apparently, when the transition from early intervention to school district occurs, the school district has to hire their own person to assess the child, even if the last assessment was just one month ago.
This person (the new SLP) had met Bubbles for less than thirty minutes when she declared that she suspected he was 'quite bright'.
(I grinned; we have 'suspected' the same thing, but that pesky little language bias creates doubt!)
She did a receptive language test on him and he did not stop answering (pointing, but he would add the word if he knew how to say it) until they reached close to a four year old level. I was beaming; it was the first test performed with him (since the school district got involved) that was actually age appropriate and not expressive language biased.
The SLP seemed rather excited herself; she explained that his apraxia was so evident through his oral motor deficits, and that currently it was physically impossible for him to coordinate his language, but that for him it was completely fixable! Because his cognitive ability does not appear to be compromised, it really is an issue of exercising, learning, and therapy. She believes that he might even talk pretty one day! She actually believes that he will; I am reservedly skeptical.
We have never heard any prognosis for children like our little guy, other than 'With the right therapy and hard work, you do the best and hope for the best! Some kids become verbal communicators'.

OMG really? That was the best we could hope for? Vagueness?
What is the right therapy?
Hard work? If he can't work hard then we give up?
Hope is the only thing you can tell me?
The best? That seems rather relative.
SOME KIDS? HOLY CRAP, WHICH ONES???


Actually, I have to say I have been rather calm-ish with the actual diagnosis, if not with the anxiety of transitioning to the school district and our first IEP. The diagnosis has been a bit mysterious, but we are sure that it is not fatal, and therefore in Gwendomama's world of relativity: Not that bad.
See? The bar was low for this boy.
Just survive, and we'll give you the world!
Luckily he does not ask for the world. Just a steady supply of nitrite-free bacon.

So, to recap: She thinks he can get better and learn himself to talk real good.

Shorter recap: My new guru.

She explained that he could not form certain sounds because of his oral motor deficits. She said she guessed he only ate a few select foods. "OMG!" I said, "HOW DID YOU KNOW?"
We had worried that his refusal of foods was a sensory issue, but that theory never panned out with other sensory issues. Apparently, Bubbles has been eating the foods which are safe enough for him to chew and swallow. His swallow is fine, but his tongue coordination is underdeveloped or non-existent (lateral motion). She watched him eat a lollipop, and holycow did I feel stupid when she pointed out something I always thought was a little strange, but apparently I get used to strange things easily: He stuck out his tongue and moved the lollipop over and across his tongue to lick it. There was not one effort on the part of his tongue as a tool. He can't do it.

To paraphrase the guru: Basically, Bubbles' oral-motor deficits, combined with his apraxia-based muscle incoordination severely hinder his ability to execute the oral-motor movements necessary for speech production. Children with apraxia learn to speak in much the same way as a person would learn a second language (which absolutely supports our argument to keep him in his typical preschool).

She was impressed with his cognitive ability, and he was incredibly charming as well. She seemed impressed with his ability to focus and work (play-incentive-based)I pointed out how nicely he cleaned up a mess he made and complied with most instruction. Because of ABA, my child will be able to work with this person in the most productive fashion; his attention span and focus are rare to be found in your average three year old.

She agreed with the moderate to severe (more on the severe end) of apraxia diagnosis, and claims that this is an area of her expertise and interest. She did wonder, however, why one area of his speech and babbling was so incongruous with a typical apraxic child: He is able to use complicated rhythm and syntax in his play language, while most children with apraxia apparently sound more robotic. I said that sometimes he would be playing and babbling animatedly and then he would stop and turn to me to say something like, "I. Wan. Joos. Pees." in a somewhat robotic voice.
"No," she said, "He really has highly developed inflection and emotion in his babbling. It had to be compensated for in some way....Hmmmm....does he really like music?"
(the ZOMG fairy had covered the room in ZOMG fairy dust)
"Does he?" I sputtered, "ZOMG he is very musical! He loves music! He has been to probably 100 music classes with me too, because I am a music teacher!"
"Ahhhh," she said, "That explains it."

Guru.


Last week, Bubbles gave us a glimpse of what he knows. At some point over the last month, it all started to fall into place for him - he started to ask questions, narrate, parrot, try new sounds. He will even attempt a three syllable word, as long as the first two syllables are 'firetruck'. Over the weekend, the clouds parted, and language poured forth, streaming into my child and our lives.
Just a sampling:

Where did Daddy go? Daddy, where did you go?

(To Supergirl's friend) Hey! Where your mama go? Why your mama home?

I wan watch a mooo-veeeee? Meeeeease?

Mama! I sit on table! (he used 'on'!)
Me: Bubs, are you allowed to sit on the table?
NO! I SO FUNNY!!!!

Fire Truck, Fire Truck, Fire Truck; repeat x 37

(As we turned down our cross street) NO GO HOME! I wan go heh-cop-purs again again again NOW! (I want to go back to the amusement park in Vallejo and ride helicopters again like we did after the wedding last weekend!)

(Today at preschool to some kids messing with the 'special sharing toys' table) NO NO STOP IT! Teacher say NO. You STOP IT.

This is just the beginning. I am so glad that he will be able graduate from his talented and tireless ECI whom, over the past year he has challenged to become the best ECI ever, glowing with the skills she has taught him. I can't think of a better gift with which to part.
(Okay, actually I did think of a pretty nice gift to add to that, but shhhhh......not til her last day!)

Pre-IEP Trauma

So, the school psych (who has never met my child in person, ever) and the principal (also superintendent) sent me to observe a preschool which they thought perhaps, may be perfect for my son. Perfect, why?
Perfect because this is (apparently) a preschool for children with communication disorders. I wasn't fooling myself, I knew what realm of behaviors that could imply. But I was hoping it really could offer more than something I had ever seen. It would have to be that good, because I love the preschool Bubbles has been attending since September, and his language has improved impressively in that time.
The school I visited might be an appropriate school for children on the spectrum. With communication issues, such as: using your body to hurl at someone instead of your words to ask for a turn. Not so much on the language issues.
I spent two hours there, and it seems to me that the teachers needed to spend an inordinate amount of time deflecting aggressive behaviors between the students, which leads me to believe that very little teaching can happen. I also did not observe any positive re-enforcers for positive language skills, and this would be a drastic transition for my little guy.
I do believe that this would be great place for my child to learn unacceptable behaviors more than appropriate articulation, which is why I do not wish to send him there. To remove him from his inclusive preschool environment in which he is successful and has attentive teachers, to put him into a special education classroom would not be a step forward.
However, when I stepped into the parking lot of the preschool to discuss this issue with the resource teacher from our school who had joined me on the site visit, she told me a little story of some previous student of hers whose parents would just not listen to the words 'special day class' and the 'severe nature of his deficits', and suggested that I 'sleep on it'. 'It', presumably being, the experience.
So after I 'slept on it' I woke up with swollen eyes from crying all night and feeling REALLY PISSED OFF ABOUT EVERYTHING. And, I had a wedding to attend. With very puffy eyes. Which made everyone else jealous, because they thought I was baked. (The wedding was in Berkeley.) But then the wedding was so damn touching that my puffy eyes looked right in place pretty soon.

ANYway, there is much more to this, of course.
But I have been rather emotionally pre-occupied, and a teensy bit sad, and feeling very alone in this struggle.

Very.
Alone.

The Assessment: Part 2

Well, the numbers are in.
No, I am not talking about the debate.

I am talking about The Assessment. The one which was done three weeks ago and the results of which just graced my presence.

The boy? He has The Apraxia.
In other words: Teh boy don make no sens.

Okay, that's not entirely true - just a family joke. He makes sense to us, sometimes. But perhaps only six people he knows can actually understand him at all...and still....just sometimes. His family, his speech therapist, and two highly gifted friends of mine who remain my very best friends because they claim to hear (and understand!) him say complicated things which are usually run together very fast.

One indicator of apraxia is a large discrepancy between receptive and expressive language skills. As it became more and more apparent to me that this is what his delay really was, I was told repeatedly, "But not the only indicator! You can't go just on that!"
True enough, but Bubbles meets nearly all of the criteria used to diagnose apraxia, so I have been more or less convinced of this possibility being a reality for the past few months.

And then came the report.

(sucks breath in)

Start internal dialogue: Ooooookay. This is fine. You knew this was the reality!
But ZOMFG my baybeeee. He's got a NEUROLOGICAL ISSUE.
Oh my god listen to you - we have already gone through this - it's a neuro-processing disorder, okay? It's not a fucking brain tumor. His brain is malleable. With the right help he will learn to use that part of his brain and, albeit, with challenges, he will be able to communicate!
But OMG what about the kids who never become verbal communicators? What if someone suggests alternative communication devices to us?
Settle down, woman! You got him into speech at two yearsold! He is already communicating verbally. He shows signs of improvement and the desire to be challenged and to learn to communicate with his peers!
But what if......
Nope.
People will think he's retar- mentally challenged! The world is gonna shit on my baybeeeee!!!
Shut up. Seriously, you are crying now and that is so emo-over the top. I cannot believe you are reacting this way. How many times did you say yourself you knew it was apraxia?
Waaaaahhhhhhhhhh. Oh, sniff sniff, YOU shut up. I can have one fucking moment to grieve and be fearful, so stuff it.

That was that.
I am now far more composed than I was one hour ago. Far more.

Really. I am okay. He's going to be okay. Well, let me get back to you on that part specifically, because there are many variables, the biggest one right now being the school district and what they will offer him for speech therapy at his IEP (which will occur in the next four weeks, before he turns three).
But he will be okay. He also has the personality to compensate for his funny sounding language. I just hope that it can't be crushed by his frustration.
His receptive language skills ranked in the 63rd percentile, which means that he actually tested slightly above what is considered 'normal' for his age range.
His expressive language skills tested in the 16th percentile; a significant delay and a substantial discrepancy between the two skills, which generally develop in a harmonious partnership.
His expressive language is developmentally appropriate for a 26 month old.
When I think back on the behavior issues with which we were dealing, and the tantrums...and I feel so sad for him. How frustrated he must have felt, and no wonder we were all experiencing over-the-top terrorist two year old.
(***sniff***sniff***sniff***)

In the past two months, Bubbles has turned his first (rounded) corner. He now volunteers the use of complete sentences: 'I want shoes off. Help, please.'
He has finally suddenly started to narrate things (without being prompted) in our environment, especially when driving around: 'Oooohhh water, ocean BIRDS! YEAH BIRDS! Birds fly fly fly fly! Mama! Fire truck! The bus, the BUS THE BUS!!! Nother cars! I want juice box, pleeeeeeeeease!'
Of course, only some of it comes out as completely intelligible, but he is actually practicing words he already knows and has been working hard to learn, so most of it is somewhat clear. He's not trying to say things like: 'Look, Mama - another Obama sign! HAHA that rhymes! Can we please stop for jamba juice??' ...or any of the other things he hears his sister crowing as we roll along!

So, there's the update.
A large dose of reality, plus a touch of sadness and fear, with a side of hope.

My kid is more special than yours.

I have been so uncharacteristically quiet about the early intervention and speech therapy that Bubbles has been receiving for the past two months. I could spend more pre-sleep hours trying to analyze that one, or I could just jump in.

:::splash:::

Bubbles has an expressive language delay. Back in November, around his second birthday, I self-referred to our regional center, the early intervention referral center. I mentioned to a few people that I was concerned about his speech; that I knew he was supposed to be using more words at this point, and I wondered if we were dealing with a language delay, or if the delay was pointing to something more serious. Every person I shared this with was incredibly helpful with their comments of how I was 'overreacting', and how they knew a boy that didn't talk until he was (fillintheblank) three, four, two and 1/2, etc....and he turned out just fine, and I should stop worrying, blahblahblah. And so I of course, stopped worrying stopped sharing my concerns with everyone and made the phone call.

A long, long time ago, I was going to college to become an early interventionist. When I was just 18, I made a choice to work with children with cancer through an internship (that I kept for two years). It may not have been a wise choice, because it ended up thoroughly confusing me about my future, and caused many internal struggles that ended up confusing my career path for years to come. But the background (early intervention) is still there, and coming from this perspective, it seemed to me quite negligent if I was able to pinpoint a real delay in my son's development, and then choose not to do anything about it.

Another thing I want to say about this (only because so many people express surprise when I tell them that we self-referred Bubbles for an assessment) is, that most people seem unnecessarily afraid of these services. Afraid of a label? Afraid of being involuntarily recruited into the 'special needs parents club'? Afraid of HELP?

We were fortunate enough to receive EI services with Elijah, and our experience was that this county is well-funded and well informed about the benefits of early intervention, and one would be a fool not to take what they have to offer. When a child turns three, their therapy (if still needed) will not be funded or provied by EI, but a family will then receive an IEP through the county office of education. Most parents should know that services are much harder to receive once in the hands of the impoverished school districts, and even more difficult if the services were not in place prior to age three (through EI). Also, EI is just that: Early Intervention. Why wait until three or four to deal with something that could be addressed at age two? If you know anything at all about a child's brain, you know why these are called the formative years.

So, when Bubbles had about six words at eighteen months, and still about six words at nearly two years, I knew I had to turn him in make the call. Within two weeks, the regional center coordinator came to my house with a child development expert (who is also a behavioral psychologist), who did a full developmental assessment. Seriously awesome. In another week, we received the results and a conference with the specialist, who made her recommendations for service: two hours/week for speech therapy. We would be receiving services/therapy from her organization, which uses ABA as a primary method of treatment. The results of the BDI had supported my 'overreactionary' claims; Bubbles indeed had a language delay - in November, just after his second birthday, he was assessed at a TEN MONTH level for his expressive language.
The good news was that this appears to be a singular delay (he tested at a developmentally appropriate level or above in other areas, including receptive language), and when the delay can be isolated rather than part of a group of symptoms, it usually means that it is just what it is (a language delay), and not a red flag for a more serious delay.
Of course, now that we are working with an ABA program, I have even more judgment to deal with than what I received for merely being concerned about his language development. If I go into detail of his behavioral-based therapy or even mention the term 'ABA', within the moments following, I am sure to be heard saying "No, he is not autistic." Because, invariably, the only people that have heard of ABA, have heard it only when paired with autism and treatment for autism. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...)
But oh! People have opinions! That must be shared, and usually with superiority and/or disapproval. While we are home fussing and making a big deal about Bubbles' language delay, fretting and freaking, there are people who are not wasting their time, they are putting brain cells to task with their grave concern over our inappropriate parenting. Because when you tell someone that your child is receiving therapy for their behavior, then the instant interpretation in their brain goes like this: "Behavior therapy=problem! Ohmygod, that woman has a child with a behavior problem. I am so glad that my child does not have a behavior problem."
And interestingly enough, even when you say this to a friend who lets her own toddler get up in the middle of the night and 'have snacks and play for two hours', this same friend will remark about what a good thing it is that you are 'nipping it in the bud'.
So my lesson here is, if I mention that I have a stubborn little two year old (redundant?) with a speech delay, and that we are working with a behavior-based therapy to get him to use language because we have determined that it is more based on his desire and incentive to speak rather than a physical issue (or apraxia), then my child is instantly labeled as a behavior problem.
Wow. If I cared, that might really bother me. It doesn't really bother me, it just slightly ticks me off and makes me file away tiny little petty grudges against these people.

Way more to come about all of this. But I can't spend the entire day blogging. I have to go now and crush my little boy's spirit stubbornness.